


Pick Me Up (and put me back together again)

by Imagine036



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Healing, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 13:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1430491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagine036/pseuds/Imagine036
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver Queen never panics, but he’s panicking now. Slade has him backed into a corner and the older man knows it. He's in Oliver’s line of sight then, and he freezes when he takes in the scene before him. His heart stops as he realizes Slade has managed to take him by surprise once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick Me Up (and put me back together again)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first thing I've posted on here... I've been on FanFiction for years, but I got a review that suggested I try here as well so I figured I'd give it a go. Hopefully I do this right! I'm still figuring this site out.  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow

Oliver Queen never panics, but he’s panicking now. Slade has him backed into a corner and the older man knows it. If he had just realized what was going on sooner… But he convinced himself that it couldn’t be what his gut was telling him. Slade Wilson was dead. He killed him. But he watched Slade die when the Mirakuru was first injected into him, and the man started breathing again, so why should an arrow through the eye be any different?

Slade Wilson isn’t dead. Slade Wilson is very much alive, and he wants revenge. At this point, Oliver knows he’ll get it. There’s no way he can stop him. A run-in with one of the Mirakuru-enhanced soldiers incapacitated Diggle two days prior, and Sara is proving more difficult to find than he imagined. He assumed she’d come when she got word that Slade had taken Laurel, but there hasn’t been a sign of her yet. Felicity sent out the message two days ago, the same day they were ambushed by the soldiers and Digg was put in the hospital. He can always hope that she’ll come just at the right time, but he can’t rely on that happening. The League of Assassins could have her away on a mission for all he knows. She could have absolutely no idea what’s going on in Starling City. He’s alone in this, and it’s time he faced it. When this is over, it will seal Sara’s hatred of him. Ever since he’s come back he’s done nothing but put Laurel in danger, despite his promises to protect her, and now she could end up paying the ultimate price.

He knows what awaits him on the rooftop before he even gets there. Felicity didn’t show up at the foundry this morning, and when he called her it wasn’t her voice on the other end of the line. The thick Australian accent chilled him to the bone as it came through the phone, giving him a time and a place and telling him he knew the choice he’d have to make. He does know, but he also knows he can’t make this choice. When Ivo pointed that gun at Sara all those years ago, he reacted instinctively, not realizing in the moment that diving in front of her would mean Shado’s life was forfeit. He hadn’t meant for it to happen; he hadn’t meant to choose Sara over Shado; he hadn’t meant to choose either one of them. But he did, and now he’s paying the price for his choice.

Felicity or Laurel? Slade will make him choose once again, except this time he doesn’t think he can recover from it. He can’t make this choice, just like he couldn’t make the last one. Both women mean too much to him to place one over the other, but if he abstains, Slade will shoot them both. He knows how this has to go.

“Ah, nice of you to join us,” Slade greets him, as though Oliver’s simply arriving late for lunch. “The ladies and I were just having a nice chat. I was filling them in on our history.”

Oliver says nothing, trying to locate where Slade’s voice is coming from on the rooftop. He thinks it’s to the left, and follows his instincts as Slade’s words echo around the space.

“I thought they deserved a bit of background before the main event, just so there are fewer surprises.”

Slade is in Oliver’s line of sight then, and he freezes when he takes in the scene before him. His heart stops as he realizes Slade has managed to take him by surprise once again. Three. There are three women before the older man, not two.

“Of course, one of them already knows the story, so I imagine it was a bit redundant for her.” Slade unleashes a wolfish grin at Oliver’s reaction, made all the more sinister by the eye-patch stretched across his face. He’s dressed in a suit, as though this is a business meeting, and waves a gun around as he talks with his hands in grand, sweeping gestures. “Bet you didn’t see this one coming, did you, kid?”

Oliver is too shocked to say anything, eyes darting between the three women. So far they all look mostly unhurt, but he knows that will soon change. Felicity, directly in front of Slade, looks terrified, but she’s doing a good job of maintaining her composure. She stares steadily at him, and he can read her faith in him in her expression. She may be scared, but she trusts that he has a plan. Laurel is to Felicity’s right, panic and confusion warring for dominance in her eyes as she turns her tear-streaked face away from the final captive to glance at him before looking back in disbelief. To Felicity’s left, Sara is bound more heavily than the other two, leaving her to struggle pointlessly against her bonds. When Oliver comes into view, she stops her futile motions, looking up at him in defeat. They both understand what is going to happen.

Slade interrupts his observations abruptly, bringing his attention back to his former friend. “Let me explain how this is going to work.”

“I know how this is going to work,” he grounds out.

“Oh, I don’t think you do. I’ve been planning this for a long time, but once I started watching you I had to make some…” he trails off momentarily, eyes landing on Felicity, “Adjustments.” Slade pauses to let it sink in, knowing it will increase the guilt and despair he’s already feeling tenfold. He brought Felicity into this. The only reason she’s here is because he dragged her into this life. Satisfied that his words have had the desired effect, Slade continues. “You’re going to make a choice, just like before, but this time…” He stops talking, reaching down to pull Felicity to her feet and drag her against him. She cries out involuntarily in surprise before trying to compose herself once more. Oliver takes an involuntary step forward and another menacing grin stretches across Slade’s face. “This time, you’re going to have an audience.”

Oliver says nothing, trying to sort through what Slade is saying. Laurel is still gaping at Sara, but Sara is staring straight at Oliver. He understands her silent plea but he can’t bring himself to carry out her wishes. He won’t do this a second time; he can’t.

“I can’t figure out what this girl sees in you,” Slade is saying, drawing his attention back to where he’s tracing down Felicity’s neck with the gun. She struggles in vain against his enhanced strength. “You’re the worst sort of human being, and still she has this unfailing loyalty to you.”

At this, Felicity snorts seemingly before she can stop herself. “This coming from the man holding three women at gunpoint.”

Everyone tenses as she realizes what she just said, but Slade only laughs. “Even now she defends you, after I’ve just told her what you did to Shado.”

“Slade, I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he tries. It’s the truth, but not the one Slade wants to hear right now.

“But it did. Shado’s dead, and you’re to blame. How can you wear her hood when you know she’d be alive if it weren’t for you?”

“Ivo pulled that trigger, Slade, no one else,” Sara snaps.

“After he chose to save you!”

“I wear her hood to remind me of that,” he answers, “I wear her hood to honour her.”

“You don’t know the meaning of the word,” Slade snarls, his grip tightening on Felicity as he does so.

“Slade, this is between you and me. Let them go. I’m the one you want dead, not them.”

“I’ve been crafting this plan for years, kid, and I know exactly what I want. You’re going to choose, and she,” he indicates Felicity again, “She’s going to watch.”

His eyes fly from Slade, to Felicity, and back again as he takes in his words. Slade laughs once more.

“Another unanticipated twist, right? You were always meant to choose between the Lance sisters, but once I saw how pure, innocent, and completely devoted to you this one was, I realized my revenge could be even better. Not only will you have to live with the choice you make, but so will she,” he says, lowering his voice as he presses his lips close to Felicity’s ear. Oliver’s fist clenches as she winces, and he takes another step forward. “It will start out slowly and neither of you will notice it at first, but gradually you’ll realize the shift in the way she looks at you. You won’t be her hero anymore, you’ll be the villain. Eventually she won’t even be able to look at you at all, and you won’t be able to do anything but watch as she slips away right in front of you. And then, when you’ve spent years buried in grief and guilt, and the only person you thought was incorruptible in her belief in you has succumbed to the realization of the monster you really are, then I will come for you.”

“That won’t happen,” Felicity bites out, but her voice is a bit shaky. She stares at him, knowing where his eyes are even under the hood.

“You say that now, but wait until you’ve seen him choose. He holds the power of life and death in his hands, and he’s going to wield it before we leave here tonight.”

“I won’t,” Oliver snaps. ‘You want me dead, you kill me, Slade. You kill me right now. That’s my choice.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option, kid. Your choice is this: Laurel?” He points the gun at Laurel and she shies away from it instinctively before he swivels it to Sara, “Or Sara? Which Lance sister is more important to you?”

He looks between them, utterly lost. His heart is racing and he can’t think of anything that can get them all out of this situation unscathed. He glances at Felicity, still held against Slade, and watches her realize that he truly doesn’t have a plan. Watching the faith die slowly from her eyes, he realizes Slade is right. She’ll lose her trust in him after tonight, and he won’t be able to stop it. He isn’t sure which outcome will hurt more, but his heart is tearing into a million pieces just thinking about the aftermath.

“Hey,” Sara’s voice calls out, drawing his attention, “Look at me. It’s ok.” He understands what she’s saying and he shakes his head in protest. “It isn’t your choice; it’s mine. You swore you’d protect her. Protect her now, and save her life.”

“Sara, what-” Laurel’s voice chokes on her words as she speaks for the first time.

“I stayed away to protect you, Laurel, and I’m doing this now for the same reason,” Sara addresses her sister softly before turning back to Oliver. “Save her life. Please. She deserves to live.”

“Sara?” Laurel’s voice is weak and she sounds so young and vulnerable and confused and Oliver can’t figure out what to do. He’s lost. He can’t fix this.

“Hey.” It’s Felicity’s voice this time, drawing him back to reality. He can feel his heartbeat trying to steady itself as he looks into her eyes, breathing deeply as he reads the message in them. He needs to focus. Slade is rattling him and he can’t let him. “Whatever happens, I’m here.”

The conviction behind her words reinvigorates him. This is Felicity. He can always count on Felicity; she’s always been there for him and she isn’t going anywhere. Slade won’t win this. He sees the glint of the syringe slip into her hand from up her sleeve a second before she jerks to the side and uses all her strength to jam it into Slade’s leg, managing to inject him with the contents before he has time to react. Startled, Slade relaxes his hold on the blonde and she tries to get out of reach just as Oliver starts to rush him, recognizing Felicity’s attempt at distraction. It fails, however, as Slade recovers far more quickly than should be possible, reaching out and tugging Felicity back to him, pressing the gun hard into her temple. He stops short and her eyes squeeze shut, recognizing the lost opportunity. It’s over.

“A good try, I’ll give her that. I expected a fight from her,” Slade indicates Sara, “But not from this one.”

Laurel’s face is wet with tears as she realizes that there truly is no other way around this, as is Felicity’s. Sara, however, doesn’t cry, probably because she used up all the tears her body had to offer on the island, much like Oliver.

“It’s ok,” Sara whispers to him again, and he knows what he has to do. He thought failing to stop the Undertaking broke him, but he knows that it won’t compare to what this will do to him. He looks at Laurel and Felicity one last time, drinking in the last time he will likely ever see them look at him without the shadow of what he’s about to do lurking in their gazes.

“I’m sorry, Sara,” he whispers, bowing his head before meeting Slade’s eyes in defeat.

“Who’s it going to be?” Slade asks, though he’s blinking a bit too fast, as though trying to keep the world focused around him. “The woman you claim to love, or the one you saved before? Who lives?”

He takes a deep breath as Slade sways. “Sara,” he breathes out.

Four pairs of eyes flick to him in shock. Slade starts to laugh maniacally if a little breathlessly. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he responds, and points the gun towards Sara’s head.

Laurel is yelling, Felicity and Sara are looking at Oliver in sudden understanding, but Oliver’s attention is on Slade as the man stumbles to the side. He’s released Felicity in favour of rubbing at his eyes in an attempt to clear vision that must be blurry, but still manages to get a shot off in Sara’s direction. He misses. Realizing this is the chance he needs, Oliver charges at Slade, engaging him before he can recover from whatever happened.

The other man blocks Oliver’s blows somewhat clumsily, which confuses him at first until he remembers the syringe. He can see Felicity struggling to untie Sara off to the side, the zip-ties around her own wrists making in difficult. She’s shouting at Laurel for help as she pulls a pin from her hair, but it takes the brunette a few seconds to understand and start moving toward them. Together, they manage to get her legs free from the ropes and chains wrapped around her ankles and she’s up and running toward Oliver and Slade before they can protest her still-bound wrists.

Once Sara joins the fight and provides enough distraction, Oliver has time to shout back at Felicity, “What was in the syringe?”

“Vertigo!” She yells back, trying to pull Laurel away from the trio. Even without the use of her hands, Sara is deadly, but Slade is still holding his own, despite the drug in his system.

They fight for longer than he thought Slade could hold out against the two of them before the Vertigo overwhelms him and he finally takes a blow to the face from Oliver as Sara simultaneously sweeps his legs out from under him. He falls to the ground, hitting his head, and the two of them pause, breathing heavily as they watch his unmoving form warily. He could be faking it. Finally, Sara takes a tentative step toward the body and kneels down to feel for a pulse.

It happens so quickly that no one has time to react. With one last burst of energy, Slade’s arm whips out toward Sara, forcing her to fly a few feet away, landing hard on her back before he goes limp once more. Instinctively, Oliver covers the distance to Slade in a few long strides, checking for a pulse and feeling nothing. That taken care of, he proceeds to Sara, dropping to his knees when he realizes that a black handle protrudes from her chest. Slade didn’t just hit her, he stabbed her. It isn’t long before Laurel is rushing over and joining him on the ground next to her fallen sister.

“Sara-” She chokes out, tears coursing down her cheeks once more. When the younger of the sisters can only smile and whisper Laurel’s name in return, the brunette’s fiery gaze locks on Oliver. “Save her! You have to- You have to save her!”

Sara’s smile turns sad. “It- It’s too late, Laur.” Her head turns slightly to look at Oliver and she whispers, “Thank you.”

He knows what she means and merely nods, trying to control the rage and despair building in his chest. She’s dying, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. Yet she’s lying here thanking him for respecting her wishes and implying that this isn’t his fault. It took her a minute, but she understood that he said her name because he knew Slade would kill the one he chose to live. Slade would make him choose and then use that choice against him. For the rest of his life, Oliver would have to live with the decision he made, and whoever he didn’t choose would live with knowledge that he didn’t choose her. Add that to the corruption of Felicity’s faith in him and Slade succeeds at ruining three of the most important relationships in Oliver’s life. He still could, with Sara laying here. Laurel will hate him for this, and Felicity knows now that he failed them all. He didn’t have a plan. He caved to Slade’s demands. He didn’t save them like she thought he would. He isn’t a hero at all.

Sara’s voice is getting weaker as she tries to lift her head to look at something beyond her feet. She fails, dropping her head back against the cement but keeping her eyes focused in that direction. “Take care of him,” she says softly, and Oliver turns to see Felicity standing a couple of feet away, nodding back at the other blonde through silent tears. With that said, Sara turns her attention back to Laurel and Oliver stands, backing away from the two to give them privacy for however long Sara has left. He can’t imagine it’s more than a couple of minutes.

Felicity looks like she wants to say something to him, but refrains at the look on his face as he walks by her. He surveys the city, angry that everyone else is going about their night so unconcerned when a gaping hole has just opened in his chest. His world is collapsing around him and everyone else is just going about their daily routine like nothing has happened.

“Oliver,” she finally whispers. They’re too far away for Laurel to hear her saying his name, but he’s sure she’ll put the pieces together eventually. “Oliver.”

“What,” he snaps quietly. Doesn’t she understand that he doesn’t want to talk about it? Doesn’t she understand that-

“Where’s Slade?” She asks, panicked.

He whirls around and realizes she’s right; Slade is gone. He lets out a roar of frustration when a cursory search of the surrounding area yields no sign of the man, lashing out and punching the wall encasing the staircase beside him. At the same time, Laurel lets out a particularly loud cry. He’s failed again. Sara is dead, and Slade is gone.

* * *

 

It takes Oliver two months of seclusion before he starts to recover, though that may not even be a good word for it. Laurel left Starling City all together shortly after that night, confronting him with her knowledge of his identity before telling him that she never wanted to see him again and hopping on the first flight to anywhere else. She may understand that he was really choosing to save her life, but that doesn’t mean she’ll forgive him for letting her sister die a second time. Slade succeeded in ruining that relationship, at least.

Felicity, on the other hand, is a completely different matter. He tries to escape back to Lian Yu three times, but each time she seems to anticipate him and heads him off. Eventually, he accepts defeat and locks himself away in his room, but she still won’t go away. She’s outside his door every day without fail, and though he never lets her inside, he can sense her presence just outside the door from the early morning until late evening. He’s always awake while she’s there. In fact, he hardly sleeps at all these days. Sometimes he hears her talking to Thea, or Digg when he stops by, or even his mother when she comes with trays of food. He doesn’t open the door for the food until she leaves, though. He can’t bear to look at her and see the disappointment that he knows will eventually start clouding her expression as she looks at him. Like Slade said, it will start gradually at first. She won’t realize she’s feeling it until one day she can’t bear to look at him anymore and leaves.

“Oliver Queen!” She yells through the door. It’s late in the day and he can hear the exhausted exasperation in her voice. She’s tried yelling and incessant banging before but he has yet to give in. “Open this goddamn door right goddamn now or I will have John goddamn kick it in!”

He’s heard the threats about kicking down the door before, though not with nearly so many curses, so he merely ignores her pounding on the wood. Diggle would never actually kick it in, and he’s pretty sure the other man isn’t even here right now.

“I’m still here!” She shouts. He’s sure people all over the house can hear her but she doesn’t waver in her resolve. “When will you get it through your thick goddamn head that-” She stops short, and for a second he thinks she’s left, but then she speaks again, more softly this time, “Oliver, I’m not going anywhere. Remember? Whatever happens, I’m here.”

Her words from that night are accompanied by the same conviction they held then, and something inside him breaks. She’s still here, after everything he’s done. She’s sat outside his door for countless days, waiting for him to open up and let her in. She isn’t going anywhere. She’s still here.

His feet are moving before he can stop himself, walking to the door and pausing briefly in front of it before reaching out and flipping the lever to unlock it. He hears her sharp intake of breath on the other side as he slowly turns the handle and starts to pull.

Seeing her face for the first time in so long is like a bucket of water overturned on his head. She looks exhausted, her hair disheveled and her eyes featuring dark circles that probably rival his. Felicity is usually so put together that her sloppy ponytail and oversized sweatshirt take him by surprise. As his eyes flicker back up to her face, he realizes that she’s been doing the same thing to him as he was to her.

“If I had known this was the day you were going to open the door I would have put in a little more effort,” she attempts to joke.

Unable to find anything else to say, he swallows thickly. “Hi.”

Her lips quirk upwards slightly at his choice before she echoes the sentiment. “Hi.”

They stand on opposite sides of the doorway for a moment longer before he finally takes a couple of steps back into the room, indicating that she should come in. She seems nervous as she crosses the threshold, glancing back at the hallway momentarily before committing and closing the door behind her, sliding the lock into place like she knows he wants her to. He’s already sitting on the couch, staring into the fire while his thoughts consume him once more. He barely notices when she sinks down next to him, but starts when she tentatively places her hand on his. She’s about to pull away when he catches her fingers in his, holding on to the small piece of reality she provides. Her thumb strokes over his knuckles soothingly, and eventually he feels his eyes beginning to droop. He fights it at first, not wanting her to see his body quake with the nightmares he knows he’ll have, but the urge to sleep is too overpowering. The last thing he feels is his body tilting toward her before he loses the battle.

When he comes slowly back to awareness, he is conscious of two things: his head resting on something warm and fingers running softly through his hair. As he opens his eyes, he realizes he must have shifted to lie down on the couch, as his head is pillowed in Felicity’s lap while her fingers stroke a soothing rhythm on his head. Instead of jerking back like he knows he should, he gives in to his desire to stay exactly where he is, allowing her to continue comforting him.

She stays with him as long as she can, promising to return when she leaves. It takes him a week to work up the courage to ask her to stay. He doesn’t want to blur lines between them, but her presence is soothing in a way he didn’t expect, and the nightmares aren’t as bad when she’s here. She hesitates for a second before agreeing, and he sighs in relief as she climbs atop the covers of his bed to lie beside him.

In another three days, he wakes to find her laying clothes out at the foot of his bed. He shoots her a confused look and she stares back at him defiantly.

“Get dressed. We’re going out.” She must sense his impending protest because she draws herself up to her full height. “You have been locked away in this room for far too long, Oliver. It’s time to go out and rejoin the real world,” she tells him firmly before softening her voice, “Your mother and sister are worried. So is Digg. Stop letting him win.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs to understand that it really has been far too long. He’s been useless these past months, staying locked away in his bedroom like this. What would Sara say if she could see him? He knows Slade would be delighted. Felicity’s right, as usual. He needs to stop giving Slade what he wants and get out of this room.

Once he starts leaving his room on a regular basis, Felicity slowly stops showing up as frequently. When he questions her about it, she tells him she does have a life to be living, but he can sense the lie in her excuse. She’s starting to back off so that his mother and sister can spend time with him, and so that he’s forced to find his footing in the real world again. He nods once in her direction, silently indicating that he understands and appreciates what she’s doing.

The worst part of her absence is the return of the nightmares to their full force. He tries his best to cope with them, hating the weakness that consumes him every time he wakes up in a cold sweat. It shouldn’t be this difficult, after everything he’s been through, to recover from a simple nightmare, but Sara’s face haunts him. The entire night replays on a loop every time he closes his eyes, but sometimes it isn’t Sara who dies. One time it’s him, another Laurel, but more often than not it’s Felicity who takes Sara’s place as the blue eyes looking up at him while the light seeps out. Slade never dies. He finally breaks down and calls her in the middle of the night, hating himself even as he presses her speed dial. He shouldn’t be so weak, but he needs to hear her voice. He needs to know she’s still here.

“Oliver?” Her voice is thick with sleep and he realizes it’s two in the morning. “What’s wrong?”

“I, uh, sorry.” He stumbles over his words and curses himself for it, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling at his own stupidity. “I shouldn’t have- I didn’t realize-”

“It’s fine,” she cuts him off, and her voice sounds much more alert. She seems to have made the connection that he’s not calling for any professional reason, and her voice softens. “Tell me about it.”

He resists the idea at first, but caves to her silence. In the end, telling her about it helps, and as he lies in bed he has one final request of her. “Tell me something.”

“Like what?” She questions, clearly startled.

“Anything.”

She understands his real request without any elaboration, as usual, and fills the silence with calm words until he drifts back into the arms of sleep. When he wakes up hours later, he can still hear her soft breathing on the other end of the phone, and feels something warm in his chest as he realizes that she didn’t hang up.

He calls her sporadically after that, making sure to only disrupt her sleep when he’s feeling too unsteady to push through the pain. For her part, she rolls with it fairly well, always willing to listen and then launch into some silly story from her childhood as he drifts back into a marginally more peaceful sleep.

The day he steps foot back in Queen Consolidated, he thinks her face may split with the force of the grin on it. They may not have reached an agreement about their night job quite yet, but at least he’s out and functioning in the world as Oliver Queen again. Walter has been kind enough to come back while he’s been… indisposed, and he spends the day getting caught up. The next day he enters the office to find a steaming cup of coffee in the center of his desk with a post-it beside it saying ‘Welcome Back’. He catches her eye in the glass and feels his lips twitch in his first attempt at a smile in far too long, watching her lips pull up widely in return.

There’s no smiling involved when she becomes more adamant about his return to their night job, though. Digg has been appearing around town in the hood to keep suspicion away from him, but she’s getting a lot pushier in her hints that he should return. He can’t, though. He can’t go back to that life and pretend to be something he’s not. He isn’t a hero, and he won’t let people delude themselves into thinking he is. If he were a hero, Sara, not Slade, would still be alive today. If he were a hero, Laurel wouldn’t hate him so fiercely. No matter what he says, though, he can’t seem to get that through her head. She drops file after file on his desk each morning, all featuring a different criminal at large. Digg catches a couple of them for appearances’ sake, but he gets the feeling they’re waiting on him to do anything more serious.

“What are you so afraid of?” She finally asks him one night. They’re alone in the office and he’s just rejected another of her efforts.

“I’m not afraid,” he grounds out, trying to focus on the financial reports in front of him.

“Yes, you are,” she replies, moving closer to the desk and splaying her hand across the report to force him to look up. “It wasn’t your fault, Oliver. None of it. Your choice didn’t kill Sara. It wasn’t even your choice; it was hers. She didn’t die because you decided she would. She died because Slade...” She pauses to draw in a deep, shaky breath. “Because Slade tricked us. All of us. She died because he got the upper hand when he took her, and because there wasn’t enough Vertigo in the syringe to take him out, and because he had the unfair advantage of Mirakuru in his system. She didn’t die because of you, Oliver; she died because Slade engineered impossible circumstances that were against her from the beginning.”

“Because I made a choice on that island!” He snaps back, standing abruptly.

“No, you didn’t!” She returns with the same tone. “You reacted! It wasn’t your fault.”

He stares down at her, anger blazing in his chest as he wonders why she cares so much. He doesn’t realize he’s actually asked the question aloud until she’s shouting back at him.

“Because I made a promise to Sara!” Her voice catches on the last word, and when she continues, it’s nearly a whisper. “And I intend to keep it.”

He descends the stairs into the foundry two weeks later, making sure it’s empty when he does so. He doesn’t want the pressure to put the hood back on or any assumptions that his resolve is wavering because it isn’t. At least, that’s what he tells himself. He fingers the material of the hood lightly before pulling his hand back as though it’s burned him when an image of Sara flashes before his eyes. He doesn’t deserve to wear that hood. Slade was right; he’s not worthy.

“I think you are,” Felicity’s voice rings out into the silence. When he turns in surprise, though, she isn’t anywhere to be seen.

It takes the reappearance of Deadshot to convince him. They tell him it will just be this once, even as he sees the hope in Felicity’s eyes that it will lead to more. He makes no promises, but dresses in leather for the first time since Sara’s death nonetheless. Diggle has had his back too many times over the years for him not to owe the man this one thing.

Once they’ve taken care of Deadshot, it seems to spark something inside him, despite his resistance to it. He doesn’t want to fall back down this path, knowing it will only bring more pain and guilt, but the idea that he can help is starting to take root once more. He starts slowly, training with Digg like he used to before working his way up.

Two months after his return, he finds himself examining her expression when she looks at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Slade’s words ring in his ears even as he tries to shut them out. But, true to her word, Felicity looks at him in the same way she always has, although now there’s a tinge of pride in the mix as well.

Finally catching on to what he’s doing, she lays her hand over his one night after a particularly unfortunate outcome. “Hey,” she says softly, “I’m still here.”

He stares into her eyes, nodding as he swallows thickly, but can’t stop himself from adding a non-verbal for now. He’s grown to rely on her even more these past few months, and he can’t help the fear that fills him when he considers the possibility that any day could be the trigger. He can’t lose her. If it came to a choice, he would rather hang up his alter ego than live with her disappointment and disgust. She’s been the only thing keeping him firmly planted in reality for so long that he shudders to think of what will happen if she cuts the tie because seeing him in the hood again sparks her memory. When he shows up at her apartment that night, she silently steps aside and they fall asleep holding hands. He only wants a point of contact to remind him that she’s here, but when they wake up tangled together he wonders how simply entwining his fingers with hers was enough.

A year and three weeks after the events of that night, she hands him a phone number on a scrap of paper.

“What’s this?” He asks.

She places a phone in his hand as she answers, “Laurel’s number. I found him.”

Understanding what she means, he punches the numbers in and talks to Laurel for the first time in over a year. The brunette surprises him when she shows up, removing Sara’s black leather, blonde wig, mask, and staff from her bag and tells him he isn’t doing this alone.

They take him down together, and as Oliver watches the light drain from Slade’s eyes, he feels a perverse sense of pleasure.

“You seem good, Ollie,” Laurel tells him as they sit in the foundry after it’s all over. “Better than I expected.”

“So do you,” he replies truthfully.

She stays silent for a while, eyes flitting around the foundry in a calculated manner. “I wasn’t at first, but having a purpose helped. I promised Sara I would continue.”

“She made a lot of people promise things,” he observes, eyes trailing over to where Felicity sits at her computers, typing as always.

“I like her,” Laurel tells him, following his gaze.

“I wouldn’t be sitting where I am right now without her.”

“You should tell her how you feel.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, frowning as he turns back to her.

She smiles knowingly. “You’ll figure it out.”

When he finally does, it isn’t because of some grand gesture or her life in danger. There’s no one moment in which everything becomes clear. Instead, it happens gradually over the random phone calls at two AM, and the way she makes sure to never break her eyes from his first. It’s in the way he feels lighter when she’s around, and the warmth that spreads through his chest when she smiles at him. He realizes what he’s been hiding from himself when they sit in comfortable silence on her couch, and when she stops his internal downward spiral to tell him that yes, she’s still here. Whatever happens. She’s always been here, and she always will be. He can count on her to be there when he falls because she’s already picked him back up too many times to count.

“Felicity?”

She swivels her chair to face where he stands, leaning against the table across from her. “Yeah?”

He doesn’t respond right away, merely taking in the sight of her. When she looks like she’s about to ask if she has something on her face he blurts out, “Why are you still here?”

She blinks, clearly not expecting that. “Because my system’s running an update?”

He tilts his head slightly to indicate he’s serious and her somewhat forced smile falls. She looks at everything in the foundry possible before her eyes finally land back on him.

Sighing, she stands up and takes a tentative step towards him. “Because I made a promise,” she tells him quietly.

“To Sara, yes, you’ve told me that.”

She shakes her head, taking another step forward. “Not just to Sara. I made a promise to you that night, too. I told you I’d be here, no matter what. So I’m here.” She takes another step. “Because… I thought you needed me to be.”

He’s silent just long enough for her face to reflect her uncertainty. “I do,” he finally says, his voice a little huskier than he intended. Her eyes flick up to his as her lips part slightly in surprise. “But I was a mess, and I didn’t expect you to stick around for that.”

She smiles sadly. “Everyone has their limits, Oliver. Everyone has a breaking point.”

“But not everyone has someone willing to bring them back from it,” he tells her softly. She’s close enough for him to reach out and touch, so he doesn’t fight the instinct to lightly brush his fingers across her cheek, tucking a stray strand of escaped hair behind her ear. He hears her breath catch and feels his own do the same. “You’re remarkable,” he whispers, allowing his hand to cup the side of her face as his thumb runs along her cheek.

“I- uh- Thanks?” She stutters out, her eyes frantically searching his for any trace of his intentions.

He understands what Laurel said now. There was always this idea in his head that he could never love anyone like he loved Laurel, because no one could ever be what Laurel was for him. He was wrong. Standing here, he knows that Felicity isn’t what Laurel was; she’s much more. He wouldn’t be standing here if she hadn’t been so persistent. She dedicated herself to putting together the pieces of him that Sara’s death sent flying in all directions. The one thing Slade got wrong is the one thing that matters the most: Felicity believes in him, and she isn’t going anywhere. At least not if he has anything to say about it.

Her expression is starting to cloud with anxiety and apprehension again as she tries to speak once more. “Oliver, what-”

He doesn’t give her the chance to finish whatever she’s planning to ask, because he’s leaning forward before he can convince himself it’s a bad idea and his lips are finally connecting with hers. As she recovers from her initial shock at his actions, the now-familiar warmth spreads through his body and her arms wrap around his neck. The kiss isn’t gentle or exploratory, and he doesn’t intend for it to be. She needs to know exactly how he feels and how much she means to him. Pulling her as close as he possibly can, he wonders why it took him so long to see that this is what he wants. A little voice in the back of his mind is telling him he wasn’t ready until now, but the majority of his brain is captivated by the sensation of her lips touching his so he shuts down the psychoanalysis for another time.

“You’re here,” he breathes when they finally break apart. She nods against his forehead. “You’re not going anywhere.” She nods again.

When he says them, unlike every other time he’s heard them, Oliver believes the words. He knows she meant them every time, but the future is unpredictable, and he couldn’t shake the fear that, just because she meant them then, didn’t mean she wouldn’t in the future. He truly gets it now, though. She’s still here, and not just because of a promise made to a dying woman. She’s here because she cares, and because she wants to be. She’s the final piece of his shattered self that makes him whole again, and he isn’t going to stand around and wait for her to leave. He’s going to do everything in his power to make sure she has a reason to stay. He may be damaged and haunted and any other number of unpleasant adjectives that make him completely wrong for her, but he isn’t broken. Not anymore.


End file.
